


What a Wonderful World it Would Be

by Couldbeamidget



Series: The Holmes [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Criminal Institution, Euros as middle child, Gen, Mental Institutions, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Switching of birth order, Violins, selective mutism, sherrinford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12995412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Couldbeamidget/pseuds/Couldbeamidget
Summary: *TEMPORARILY on hiatus until I finish up A Freudian Slip*A first-hand view of the mechanics involved in inherent madness.(I dare you...try to say that fast, five times in a row. It sounded better in my brain than out loud.)P.S - all of these chapters will be short, as this is written from a child's perspective (and I am a lazy shit). If this is annoying, wait until I've posted several chapters to check out my updates. Or not... free will and all that. Anyway, virtual hugs to those who have chosen to read this in the first place. Ta.





	1. The Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock Holmes is not my creation. All rights go to the BBC and ACD.

                        

   The universe popped into disordered, dynamic perfection at some point in the season of Spring. It must have done, for that is when came I into fruition; and after all, I am adverse to a chill. I often ruminate on how phenomenal it must have looked, and sounded, and smelled. I envision a colorless vacuum... and then...

  

    ** _*kah-POW!*_**  

   A fusillade of elementary particles synthesizing out of diddly-squat, simply by the power of my will.

      Oh. _OH!_ I can see it!

    In my mind, on the delicate, pink membrane of my eyelids...I watch over, and over, and again; silent barrage of muons and electrons and neutrinos and hyperons, and mesons and gluons and photons... and, the other roughly two-hundred subatomic particles that I am to lazy to dignify by naming...combining and smashing and tearing apart at that singular unit of Planck time. Silent, that is, until the vacuum ruptured. 

 _Can you imagine, can you see?_ _Tosh... what a ridiculous proposal._ _As if another being exists who can equal the transcendental faculty of my intellect._   _Pardon if I over-judged your faculties. My...bad._

  I run possible scenarios whenever my mind runs counter to the meat of my body. I find it soothing to reflect on my power. It rankles, though, forced to inhabit a puny carapace of genetically engineered goo. I try not to chastise myself for errors I made as an newborn. I am working on lightening my eyes. Perhaps, I shall switch them to blue.

  I digress.

The universe and I are analogues, although I wouldn't go so far as to say mates. We simply share a few similar attributes. Ergo, we are greater corporeities than the sum of our individual parts. More to the point, however, we are both grossly and heinously underestimated in our capacity for beauty and/or chaos. Sometimes the two are the same. Entropy is incredibly beautiful.

  We exist as two distinct entities, the universe and I. My reasoning for this deduction is as follows: The universe is extraordinarily striking. In all honesty, my body is not much to look at; the atomic structure itself is somehow lacking. I am quite small, scrawny, with a complexion the colour of paste. In addition, I struggle with a poor constitution. 

    I have a beautiful mind. 

  Uncle Rudy says I am clever, but no-one ever calls me fair. Need I put in the disclaimer that the false praise of parents doesn't count? No, I thought not. Sadly, it is my little brother who bears the burden of beauty; Uncle Rudy calls William his little handsome little tinker. If the man wasn't so obsessed with refining his wardrobe, I'd suspect that little boys met his fancy. 

  William is beautiful. William's mind is a treasure. I've placed him third in my index of "The Marvelous Makings of Euros". I am, obviously, in first place. The universe trails in at second. William, however...  _William Sherlock Scott Holmes -_  a ridiculous overuse of prenomens. 

  My elder brother is neither clever nor fit. Really. I can't imagine why my infant self even bothered to spawn  _Mycroft,_  although he is very fun to taunt. He the one family member not petrified stiff by my power. I appreciate the effort, but respectfully question his logic. I am incredibly terrifying, just ask Little Lord William.  _Oh, wait. William never deigns to communicate with words._  

  My family is, upon reflection, a miscalculation. Kindly disregard my faux pas. I created them in early infancy, a stage of development where I had absolutely zero experience. Every action is difficult the first time it's attempted. For now, I will tolerate their existence. Honestly, I am curious as to whether or not my siblings are pale reflections of myself. Shadows, if you like, or more aptly, echoes. My brothers are three-dimensional nuclear shadows of my materialization as an entity.

 It puzzles, me though. If William is truly my shadow, why do his eyes shine so bright? Why does he steal all the limelight? Why do they love him so much, where I am -

  

 Excuse me... or not. This monologue has become tiresome. I am off to torment the cats.


	2. The Scientific Method

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the universe exists, Euros is peeved to realize that her creation no longer heeds her commands. For that matter, neither do the members of her family. In order to re-establish control, Euros performs a series of experiments to understand their motivations for purposes of manipulation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's not psychopathology that counts. It's what you do with it." - Anthony Storr
> 
> "In the traditional view, a person is free. He is autonomous in that his behavior is uncaused. He can therefore be held responsible for what he does and be justly punished if he offends. That view, together with its associated practices, must be re-examined when a scientific analysis reveals unsuspected controlling relations between behavior and environment."

   Behold little William, the "Golden Child". Not very equitable, that, when I am such a fantastical creature. 

  Baby brother is small in stature and skinny as a string bean. Worse, he refuses to speak. It's a cross between amusing and appalling to me that my parents accept him at all. One day I will remove him and toss his carcass in with the compost.

  Really, why should I even be surprised? My parents are both foolish individuals. Granted, Mummy is quite brilliant in maths in relation to the ordinary denizens of Britain - and when I say "ordinary", I am naturally excluding myself and my siblings from the representative sample. Nevertheless, my mother isn't stupid. She possesses excellent observational skills.

  To put it bluntly, father is a moron - albeit a sweet one.

   It doesn't help that in a clinical sense, William is exceptionally beautiful. His hair is thick and glossy, chestnut intermingled with burnt umber; lush, curly strands of keratin. My mother is indulgent and keeps him away from the barber. William's hair frames his pale, beautiful face and highlight the peculiar color of his irises. 

   Mummy fixes my hair in pig tails coupled with an inane row of fringe. I look completely ridiculous, like a _normal_ four-year oldchild. Mummy doesn't grasp that I am a singular creature, distinct from the rest of humanity.     

   Speaking of which, upon interacting with my universe, I have come to a unhappy realization. I no longer control every facet. I created the bloody thing, so why this state of being is I am frankly at odds to explain. I shouldn't have made myself so small.

   I shouldn't have let her put me in pigtails.


	3. Black - Not a Colour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Despair is the central part of the psychopathology." - Alexander Cockburn
> 
> "The goal of the human soul is conquest, perfection, security, superiority. Every child is faced with so many obstacles in life that no child grows up without striving for some form of significance." - Alfred Adler

  William says he sees colours when his eyelids are shut. He sees colour where no colour exists. Obviously, he's telling...hmmm...  _scribbling_ porkies. In addition, he did with with my very own crayon from my special wooden box  _without asking first._

  He wrote in thick red lines over every square inch of Daddy's new Sunday newspaper. Daddy didn't even seem to mind, even though he hadn't read it yet. William wrote so many words that he ended up peeling off all of the paper that gives the crayon its name. My special Brick-Red crayon was worn down to two useless, anonymous crumbs.

Consider this: 

   Brains do not contain photo receptors, nor retina, no lens, nor pupil; no corneas vitreous humor sloshing about. William physically  _cannot_  see colours in his mind, that's only logic. Only  _I_ have the power for this thing. 

  Mycroft told William that the what he is experiencing is a phenomenon known as  _synesthaesia._  According to bossy big brother, synesthaesia is a condition whereby one type of sensory stimulus (i.e sound) triggers sensations in other sensory organs not associated with that stimulus. Since eyes are physically incapable of processing sound waves, any resulting visual sensations triggered by the aural stimuli are generated by that person's own brain (colour). 

  William then wrote down something else which is completely, 100% a lie.

  William told Mycroft that when he plays a middle A on his violin, squashy blue bubbles shoot from the bow. They wriggle about in the air like tiny butterflies - and yesterday showed up even when his eyes were wide open. Mycroft seemed fascinated...a first.

  Afterwards, William used every drop of my blue paint to paint a picture of the bubbles. Mycroft said it must be beautiful to see such a thing. William smiled so wide that I saw that he was missing a bottom front tooth. I debated on knocking out the other one, considering that he also used up the whole of my crayon.

                                         

 

     Little brother's having it on about his skills. Middle A always looks like                     this:

                                            

       He can't see things, he's pretending, that's all.

       Besides. My music looks much prettier.

 

 ***************

  

  Mycroft asked William if he liked when this happened; William penned a very large N-O, after which he wrote an even bigger Y-E-S. Apparently, certain colours are scary? Illogical and odd, this. Mycroft didn't say it, but he thought it daft, too. Big brother treats William like he's still a dribbly baby.

  *************** 

   We three Holmes children are exceptionally brilliant, but we all know who's the smart one. And, NO!It most certainly is not Mycroft!

  William is so ignorant that he isn't aware that  _black_ isn't actually a colour.  Should I explain to why it isn't? Should I teach him about the electromagnetic spectrum? Should I enlighten him as to how specific wavelengths determine the colours we see? Light waves bounce off of surfaces; their frequency determines the colour. 

  Simple.

   When objects absorbs every frequency of light waves instead of reflecting it, it appears black. Black is the absence of visible light. Therefore, black is most definitely NOT a colour.

   Baby brother really is stupid.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I like to give credit where credit is due:
> 
> education.seattlepi.com/not-list-black-white-colors-physics-3426.html
> 
>  
> 
> *I tried to work in the term "stable genius", whereby Euros used it to define herself, but I couldn't. I'm just not that cruel.


	4. Black is Not a Colour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snippet of Euros's perception of reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I think a lot of psychopaths are just geniuses who drove so fast that they lost control.”  
> ― Criss Jami, Killosophy
> 
> “The eyes of a psychopath will deceive you, they will destroy you...These eyes do not see what you and I can see. Behind these eyes, one finds only blackness, the absence of light. These are of a psychopath.”  
> ― Dr. Samuel Loomis

  The phenomenon called  _Bl_ _ack_ is easily fathomed...unless one is stupid. I find that almost all people are quite stupid, like sheep. People believe that black is a colour. Idiots. They don't understand what they're perceiving is, in fact, absolutely nothing at all.  _Black_ is not a thing, but an absence; energy consumed, and never given back. 

   Light, devoured upon the very instant of contact.

    _Black_ is very much like me. Seen, but not understood. Mycroft sees me,  yet observes me from afar. My unique abilities incite fear in Big Brother. He is too afraid to try to parse out my nature. Baby William? Little brother is too cowed to even take one wee sneaky peek into my eyes. Does William wonder if I would eat him? Would I? Could I? Should I suck him dry of all that deliciously vital energy?

   It bears thinking about, this. I am at odds as to whether William's continued existence is more of a benefit or liability. I need more data. I shall require much, much more data before reaching any definitive conclusion. I believe I will conduct an experiment.

     **********

  The black holes found in the vacuum of space are invisible. Their boundary, or event horizon - if you must - is defined by the strength of its gravity. Nothing travels faster than light in a vacuum. Even so, black holes are so powerful that they suck in every individual photon of light energy stupid enough to cross its borders. Black holes pull in light; black holes keep it forever and ever.

  Once one tips over the edge, one is lost. There's simply no way to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> www.hawking.org.uk/into-a-black-hole.html
> 
> hubblesite.org/reference_desk/faq/answer.php.id=71&cat=light
> 
> www.fnal.gov/pub/science/inquiring/questions/mikep.html (thanks for asking such a good question, Mike. Much appreciated).

**Author's Note:**

> www.britannica.com/science/subatomic-particle
> 
> www.universetoday.com/79418/planck-time/
> 
> owiknow.com/nuclear-shadows/


End file.
